What if Harry got sorted into slytherin
by mxbertman
Summary: Harry was sorted into Slytherin, but will it lead to the greatness? - In this book Harry will take up a minor role and we'll see him grow up in a less stressful environment.
1. Prologue - The Sorting Ceremony

(A/N) I don't own Harry Potter or any of it's characters.

What if Harry Potter got sorted into Slytherin.

Prologue

'Potter, Harry', said an inquiring looking McGonagall.

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

' _Potter_ , did she say?'

' _The_ Harry Potter?'

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the Hall full of people craning to get a better look at him. next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited, hardly knowing what to expect. The fact that most people jumped up the moment the hat was placed on their heads was not a good sign.

'Hmm,' said a small voice in his ear. 'Difficult, very difficult... Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting ... So where shall I put you?' Harry gripped the edges of his stool and sat petrified not daring to move, cold sweat broke out and thought, 'I really hope I don't throw up and make a fool of myself.' The hat continued 'you also have a desire for strong friends, yes - Better be **SLYTHERIN**!'  
Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He sat on the stool for a while, till he realized he had to give it up to the next to be sorted. In a haze, Harry slowly walked to the table second to the right, he was rather happy the hat had chosen him, but still couldn't help feel rather nauseous of the prospect of being a Slytherin. He hardly noticed the deathly silence, as the only thing he heard was the resonated sound of the hat saying Slytherin mingled with his heartbeat. 'There must have been a mistake', a boy named Finnigan said breaking the silence, starting a wave of confused murmur. Marcus Flint, the Slytherin prefect he met on the train got up to shake his hand and congratulated him bringing pride to Slytherin and sat down next to a dark-haired girl by the name of Daphne, which he gave a the slightest weak smile. The appearance of the gaunt faced ghost with silver blood stained robes flying up at him, stopped his trains of thoughts, all working hard to be the dominant one. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just got soaked by a bucket of ice-cold water. The latter part was not far from reality as a dark skinned boy by accident splattered some pumpkin juice in his face, extending his muscled hand in his direction, 'Theodore Nott,' he began 'Just call me Theo, good luck in Slytherin.'

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end on the other side he saw Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him huge smile. And there in the centre of the High Table , in a large golden chair, sat Albus Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling like mad through his half moon spectacles in the candlelight. Harry recognized him at once from Chocolate Frog card on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole Hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking peculiar in a large purple turban.

Harry looked at Ron now, who turned a pale shade of green, so green it would make a Slytherin jelous. Ron was staring at him and their eyes connected, Ron looked ghastly, as if all hope had left the world. By now only three people left to be sorted. 'Turpin, Lisa' became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He looked as if he was marching to his own funeral and hardly a second after he had put the hat on his head it shouted, 'GRYFFINDOR!' Ron hobbled towards the table where all the Gryffindors were sorted with a look of relief. Last to be sorted was 'Zabini, Blaise', who sorted a Slytherin sat down on the across from Harry. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. When Harry looked down at his empty gold plate, realizing for the first how hungry he really was. The pumpkin pasties he shared with Ron seemed ages ago.

Albus Dumbledore had got to his feet. He was beaming at the students his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there. 'Welcome!' he said. 'Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!', he bowed graciously before he sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered and Harry couldn't help but laugh. 'He is crazy, isn't he?' said Malfoy, who he had spoken to on the train previously, laughingly to Harry. Harry felt some of he previous uncertainties disappear and laughed back saying 'He quite certainly is!'.

A new roar of excitement went up and Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup and, for some strange reason, mint humbugs, roast frogs, tripe, a dish full of roast pepers and quite a few foods he couldn't put a name to. The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry, but he had never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Harry really wanted, even if it made him sick. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything, including the humbugs and some weird shape-shifting pudding as if it didn't exactly know what is should be and began to eat. It was all delicious.

'That does look good,' said the ghost with the bloodstains politely, Harry could hear a slight hint of sadness in his voice, watching Harry cut up his steak. 'Don't you -?' 'I haven't eaten for nearly a thousand years,' said the ghost.'I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself. 'I know who you are!' said Blaise suddenly. 'My sister told me about you - you're the Bloody Baron' The Bloody Baron looked horribly offended and said 'I would prefer you to call me -' the ghost began stiffly, when Draco Malfoy sneered. 'Why are you covered in blood?' The Bloody Baron looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted. 'Because I died covered in blood,' he said irritably, and added 'So - new Slytherins! I hope you're going to help us win the House Championship. We have got the cup six years in a row now! I'd be disappointed if you make us lose now I'd certainly not want to give that Nick the pleasure, he couldn't even get his head chopped off - he's that jealous Gryffindor ghost.', he added in an afterthought flying of to the other Slytherins.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the puddings appeared. Blocks of icecream in every flavour you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, rive pudding ...

As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.

'I am a pureblood,' said Malfoy proudly, 'My father is a Hogwarts governor.'

'Nice,' said Blaise, 'how about you Parkinson'

'Well, I'm a pureblood too.' She looked at Harry inviting him to answer.

On the other side of the table, Tracey Davis and Blaise Zabini were talking about how they really felt like doing new spells. They talked about some minor jinxes and curses they wanted to know to do. It was amusing to watch how they looked at each other flirtingly.

Harry was starting to feel warm and sleepy, happy he is around nice people and being away from the Dursleys, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin. It happend very suddenly. The pale teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes with a look of utter disgust and hate - and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead. 'Ouch!' Harry clapped a hand to his head. 'What is it?' asked Daphne. 'N-nothing.' The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had got from the teacher's look - a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all. 'Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?' He asked Daphne, saying 'I think that is Professor Snape, he's the head of our house. He teaches Potions, but he'd rather have Quirrell's job - Everyone knows he should have got it. He knows a lot about the Dark Arts.' Harry watched Snape for a while but Snape didn't look at him again.

At last, the plates and puddings disappeared and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The Hall fell silent. 'Ahem - just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. 'First-Years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. and a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.'

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the red-haired Weasley twins.

'I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors and has asked me, for the twohunderd and sixty-fifth time to present you the list of forbidded items, which can be found on our caretakers office door.'

'Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch, their quidditch captain, or their head of house.'

'And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.'  
Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

'He's not serious?' he muttered to Daphne.

'Must be,' said Daphne, frowning at Dumbledore. 'It's odd, because he didn't give a reason why we are not allowed to go somewhere, how about finding out why we can't go to the third-floor corridor' she muttered to him exitedly.

'And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!' cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed and heard some groans erupting in the hall. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick as if he was trying to get a fly off the end and a long golden ribbon flew out of it which rose high above the tables and twisted itself snake-like into words. 'Everyone pick their favorite tune,' said Dumbledore, 'and off we go!'  
And the school bellowed:

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts  
Teach us something please,  
Whether we be old and bald  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff,  
For they're bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we've forgot,  
Just do you best, we'll do the rest,  
and learn until our brains all rot.

Harry, Daphne and Blaise sang, giggilingly in a quick walz theme. Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they had finished he was one of those who clapped loudest.  
'Ah, music,' he said, wiping his eyes. 'A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot! Pip pip!'

The Slytherin first-years followed Marcus through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall and down the marble staircase.

Harry's legs were like lead after his first real meal in a long time, but managed to keep pace between Blaise and Daphne. He was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along te corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that Marcus twice led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They descended more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much further they had to go when they came to a sudden quiet halt.

A bundle of walking sticks were floating in mid-air ahead of them and as Marcus took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him. 'Peeves,' Marcus whispered to the first-years. 'A poltergeist.' He raised his voice, 'Peeves - show yourself.' A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon answered. 'Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?' There was a pop and a little man with wicked dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching walking sticks. 'Ooooooh!' he said, with an evil cackle. 'Ickle firsties! What fun! Mean, treacherous, Slithery firsties, off to trouble?' He swooped suddenly at them throwing his walking sticks of Marcus' head. They all ducked. 'Go away, Peeves, or the Baron will hear about this, I mean it!' barked Marcus. Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armour and screaming like he was suffocating as he passed. 'You want to watch out for Peeves,' said Marcus, as they set off again. 'The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, that troublemaker won't even listen to _us_ Slytherin prefects.'

They went down another few corridors till they stepped into the torchlight of the dungeons. After they followed Marcus through a secret passageway he said 'Here we are.'

At the very end of the passageway was a very solid looking stone wall.

'Lux aureus,' Marcus said 'remember that well, that is our password; you don't want to spend the night out here.', and the wall turned into a great gate, slowly moving upwards opening up into a passageway with a green and silver carpet and fiery torches. The sound of gurgling water didn't help keep Harry awake as he pushed his way through it in half sleep and found himself in the Slytherin common room. It was a stately and big round room full of squashy armchairs and a big fireplace. there were many paintings, with one of them a great serpent strangling a whale and everything was coated in green and silver. 'Look there' Pansy's shrill voice piped, Harry and the other first-years looked around in awe at the wall to their left, the wall was a big, glass sheet opening up into the lake, at a bank of seaweed and pink tentacled squidlike creatures, till Marcus led the girls through one door to their dormitories: Pansy, Tracey and Dapne to one room and Millicent, Jasmin and , and the boys to theirs, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle up one staircase and Potter, Nott and Zabini through another. At the bottom of the spiral staircase, they found their beds at last: three enormous beds with deep-green, quite like the green of Daphne's eyes, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pyjamas and fell into bed.

Harry was unable to sleep after all the rich food, and sat staring out of the window into the depths of the black lake, watching fish all the while patting his snowy white owl Hedwig with its small brown eyes. He thought about the day, all the new magic and the new people he met. Harry felt happy that there were nice Slytherins, unlike what Ron said, and, now, the Dursleys felt like a memory far away, just to be found hidden maliciously in a diary.

'Harry,' Blaise whispered 'fancy a game of exploding snap?'

'Yeah' Harry said, and they woke a sleepy Theodore up.

They taught Harry the rules, and after their sixth game, and a whole bunch of laughing, Blaise accidentally set his hair on fire, they all felt so tired, that they almost fell asleep on the floor, and had to drag themselves back into their beds.

'Great food, isn't it?' Theodore muttered to Harry through the hangings. Harry was going to ask Theodore if he'd had any of the treacle tart, but he fell asleep almost at once. Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because he had a very strange dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell's tuban, which kept talking to him, telling him he should go back to the Durleys at once, because it was his destiny. Harry told the turban he didn't want to go back; It got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully - and there was Malfoy, laughing at him as he struggled with it - then Malfoy turned into the hook-nosed teacher, Snape, whose laugh became high and cold - there was a burst of green light and Harry awoke, sweating and shaking in his comfortable bed, thought about Blaise, Ana Helmdottir, who would visit him at the Dursleys and was one of the few sane people he met in his time there. He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he didn't remember the dream at all.

(A/N)  
Tell me what you think, does this set the right tone, do you like it?  
I'm thinking about making the Slytherins humane characters, except for Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle  
I want to make Neville the chosen one (even though Voldemort chose Harry), then the books can still progress, what is your opinion  
Should Harry and Ron be friends?  
As I don't want to put Harry in a dorm with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle could you suggest some (2-4) new names for the new boy characters and possibly (3-5) new girl ones?  
Who do you think Ana is?  
I'm going to slowly going into AU.


	2. Chapter 1 - The Potions Master

(A/N) I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters

 **What if Harry Potter got sorted into Slytherin.**

 **Chapter one - The Potions Master**

'There, look.'

'Where?'

'Next to the tall kid with the red hair.'

'Wearing the glasses?'

'Did you see his face?'

'Did you see his scar?'

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory next day. People queuing outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors, again, staring. Harry wished they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. the people in the portraits kept going to visit each other and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk.

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. The Bloody Baron, if he was in a good mood, was often ready to point new Slytherins in the right direction, and always ready to point anyone else on to fake staircases or locked doors. Peeves the poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop waste-paper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, push you on the wrong staircase, pelt you with bits of chalk or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose and screech, 'GOT YOUR CONK!'

Even worse that Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry and Blaise managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door which unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose and was threatening to lock them up in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp-like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better that anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs Norris a good kick.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the lessons themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learnt how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring lesson was History of Magic, which was the only class taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff-room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first lesson he took the register, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they had sat down in her first class.

'Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at hogwarts,' she said. 'Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.'

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon they realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After making a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. by the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defence Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Theodore Nott asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Malfoy didn't have much of a head start.

Friday was an important day for Harry and Theodore. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

'What have we got today?' Harry asked Pansy as he poured sugar on his porridge.

'Double Potions with those Gryffindors,' said Ron. 'I hear that, Luckily, Snape favors us unlike that McGonagall the Gryffindors - we'll be able to see if it's true'

'I don't think Snape will favor me,' Harry said grimly. Professor Snape was Head of Slytherin house, but every time their eyes connected he saw a flash of hate.

Just then, the post arrived. Harry had got used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners and dropping letters and packages on their laps.

Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. she sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note on to Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once.

 _Dear Harry,_ (it said in a very untidy scrawl)

 _I know you get Friday afternoons off,_  
 _so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?_  
 _I want to hear all about your first week._  
 _Bring your friends with you if you want._  
 _Send me an answer back with Hedwig._  
 _Hagrid_

Pansy read the note, and answered in disgust 'Are you really going to visit that giant old oaf?'

'You don't need to come,' Harry answered stung, 'Hagrid happens to be an old friend of mine.'

Harry borrowed Theodores's quill, scribbled ' _Yes, please, see you late_ r' on the back of the note and sent Hedwig off again.

Harry asked Blaise and Theodore if they wanted to come Blaise rejected, although Harry knew, that he only did this to stay on good terms with Malfoy. Malfoy had preformed a leg-locker curse on Blaise the other day, and made fun of him in front of the other Slytherins.

It was lucky that Harry had got tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happend to him so far.

At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had got the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry - he hated him.

Potions lessons took place down in the dungeons, even deeper down than their common room. It was icy cold and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls and the flickering torchlight every few meters.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the register and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

'Ah, yes,' he said softly, 'Harry Potter. Our new - _celebrity.'_ The last word he said in utter disgust, as Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

'You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking,' He began. He spoke in barely more that a whisper, but they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. 'As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect many of you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, but for those select few who posses the predisposition,' He stopped for a second looking at Draco, and continued 'I can teach you to bewitch the mind... ensnare the senses ... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death.' After yet another pause he added softly 'If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.'

More silence and some mesmerized expressions followed this little speech. Harry and Ron sat together, as they sometimes do when they share their lessons, Harry wasn't willing to let go of Ron after what Ron was to him, and Ron wanted to be friends with the boy who lived, and exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. They saw out of the corners of their eyes Hermione Granger sitting on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

'Potter!' said Snape suddenly. 'What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?'

 _Powdered root of what to an infusion of what?_ Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

'I don't know, sir,' said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

'Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything,' and added hatefully 'Mr Potter.'

He ignored Hermione's hand.

'Let's try again,' Snape said slowly stressing every syllable 'Where, Mr Potter, would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?'

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.

'I don't know' Harry said when Snape replied 'I don't know, _sir._ '

'Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Mr Potter?'

Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He had looked through his books at the Dursleys', but did Snape to expect him to remember _everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?_

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

'What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?'

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stratching towards the dungeon ceiling.

'I don't know, sir,' said Harry quietly. 'I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?'

A few people laughed; Harry caught the eye of a sandy-haired student he didn't know the name of who winked at him. Snape, however, was not pleased.

'Sit down,' he snapped at Hermione. 'For you information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkswood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?'

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, 'And note that a point will be taken from Slytherin house for your cheek, Potter.'

Things didn't improve for the students as Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt the sandy-haired boy, who happend to be called Seamus, his cauldron into a twisted blob and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class were standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

'Idiot boy!' snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. 'I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?'

Neville whimpered as the boils started to pop up all over his nose.

'Take him up to the hospital wing,' Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

'You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor.'

This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind the cauldron. 'Don't push it,' he muttered. 'I've heard Snape can turn very nasty.'

Snape saw and heard this, and took away five points from Gryffindor.

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later Harry's mind was racing and his spirits low. They'd lost nine points for their houses in their very first weeks - _why_ did Snape hate them so much?

'Cheer up,' said Ron 'Snape's always taking points off Fred and George, my twins.'

'Hey Ron,' Harry asked 'do you feel like going to Hagrid with me and Theodore?' and seeing his expression, he quickly added 'Theodore is a very nice Slytherin boy.'

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, ' _Back_ , Fang - back _._ '

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire and in a corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

'Make yerselves at home,' Hagrid said, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Theodore and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked. Theodore started patting Fang, till some spittle dropped out of Fangs mouth, what made Theodore give a yelp.

'This is Theodore by the way,' said Harry pointing at Theodore 'He's a Slytherin like me.' Harry then pointed over to Ron 'This is Ron,' Harry told Hagrid who was pouring bloiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes on to a plate. 'Another Weasley, eh?' said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. 'I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the Forest.'

The Rock cakes almost broke their teeth, but Harry, Ron and Theodore pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their classmates and their first lessons. Ron wasn't really pleased with his first week, he was dwarfed everywhere by Hermione, Dean and Seamus were turning in each others best friend.

'That leaves Neville,' of which Ron enthusiastically said that he was a nice boy.

'The parents of Neville were great people, they were yeh know.' Hagrid said.

Fang, the boarhound, now rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

They were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch 'that old git'.

'An' as fer that cat, Mrs Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang some time. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her - Filch puts her up to it.'

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

'But he seemed to really _hate_ me.'

'Rubbish!' said Hagrid. 'Why should he?'

Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

'How's yer brother Charlie?' Hagrid asked Ron. 'I liked him a lot - geat with animals.'

Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Theodore began patting Fang again, and Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cosy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

 _GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST_

 _Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July,_  
 _widely believed to be the work of dark wizards or witches unknown._  
 _Gringotts' Goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken._  
 _The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._  
 _'But we're not telling you what was in there,_  
 _so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you,'_  
 _Said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.

'Hagrid!' said Harry. 'That Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!'

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. _The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same_ day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Harry, Theodore and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets eighed won with the rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry?

Authors Note

That was that for this chapter, thanks for enjoying it!

I have a **big** surprise for you all coming up next time!

Thank you all for your support, there are so many of you that have already read it.

And here is a big shoutout to tmp1114, xHiLowx and Seth Deimona stories, who have favourited and followed it, and one other shoutout to Seth Deimona stories for revieuwing, It is a pleasure you took the time to do this in its unfinished state!


	3. Chapter 2 - The Secret Room

(A/N) I do not own Harry Potter or any of its Characters.

Sorry I haven't written much today, you can expect me to only write about 500-800 words a day in week days, in the weekends, I'll try to write a chapter

 **What if Harry Potter got sorted into Slytherin.**

 **Chapter two - The secret room**

Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more that Dudley, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy. Still, they had separate dormitories, but they shared all their classes, and worst of all was that Malfoy had claimed the common room. Harry and Theodore spent a lot of their time in the libraries, where they sometimes met up with Ron. He noticed a notice pinned up in the Slytherin common room which made him groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday - To his great pleasure, it was with the Gryffindors. 'Great,' Harry said darkly. 'Just what I wanted. To have another great opportunity to make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy.' He had been looking forward to learning to fly more that anything else, but just realized that he had to do it with Malfoy.

'You don't know you'll make a fool of yourself,' said Theodore reasonably. 'Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk.'

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. Everytime they came into the common room, Malfoy complained loudly about first years never getting into the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories which always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Blaise Zabini told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang-glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron told he already had a huge argument with Dean Thomas, who shared his dormitory, about football. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Ron told ghastly that he was prodding Dean's poster of West Ham football team, trying to make the players move, which resulted in that neither would talk.

The only wizard born from a wizarding family was the boy who kept losing his toad, Neville, had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she'd a good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground. Hermione Granger, the girl with bushy brown hair that came into their train compartment three times, was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book - not that she hadn't tried. Ron said he was bored stupid by her all morning telling flying tips she'd got out of a library book called Quidditch through the ages. 'Neville was hanging on to her every word,' Ron said. 'desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when her lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the post.'

'Don't worry Harry You'll really love it!' Theodore said, when Harry was starting to look awfully pale and then went on and on about the Chudley Cannons, his favourite Quidditch team.

Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly and always made Harry jealous watching it.

Suddenly Malfoy stood up and walk towards the Gryffindor table with his two bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle, where Harry saw Neville show his classmates a round, glass ball excitedly. Malfoy, passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry jumped to his feet, half hoping he could fight him, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

'What's going on?'

'Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor.' They heard Neville say.

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

'Just looking,' he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

Harry felt very pleased that Malfoy's bullying session was thwarted.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Theodore and the other Slytherins hurried down the front steps into the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns towards a smooth lawn on the opposite side of the Forbidden Forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance. The Gryffindors were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Pansy Parkinson complain about the school brooms, although Harry had no idea when she had ridden them before, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Macam Hooch, arrived. She had short, grey hair and piercing yellow eyes like a hawk.

'Well, what are you all waiting for?' she barked. 'Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.'

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some twigs stuck out at odd angles.

'Stick out your right hand over your broom,' called Madam Hooch at the front, 'and say, "Up!"'

'UP!' everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once. but it was one of the few that dit. Theodore got his up the second try. But Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; There was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows, correcting their grips. Harry and Theodore were delighted and couldn't help but snigger when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years, this didn't pas Malfoy who glared at him.

'Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,' said Madam Hooch. 'Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle - three - two -'

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

'Come back, boy!' she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and -

WHAM - a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay, face down, on the gras in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher and started to drift lazily towards the Forbidden Forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

'Broken wrist,' Harry heard her mutter. 'Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get.'

She turned to the rest of the class.

'None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say "Quidditch". Come on, dear.'

Neville, his face tear streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot that Draco Malfoy burst into laughter.

'Did you see his face, the great lump?'

Draco and his gang laughed.

'Shut up, Malfoy,' snapped Parvati Patil.

'Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?' said Millicent Bulstrode, one of the Slutherin girls. 'Never thought _you'd_ like fat little cry babies, Parvati.'

'Look!' said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. 'It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him.'

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

'Give that here, Malfoy,' said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

'I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect - how about - up a tree?'

'Give it _here_!' Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt on to his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he _could_ fly weel - hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, 'Come and get it, Potter!'

Harry grabbed his broom.

' _No!_ ' shouted Theodore. 'Madam Hooch told us not to move - you'll get us all into trouble.'

Harry ignored him. Blood was pounding in his ears. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared, air rushed through his hair and robes whipped out behind him - and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught - this was easy, this was _wonderful._ He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Theodore and Ron.

He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in mid-air, and when their eyes connected, for a split second, Harry saw something more than pure hate, but something deeper, but shrugged it away as shame and that Malfoy's plan hadn't succeeded.

'Give it here,' Harry called, 'or I'll knock you off that broom!'

'Oh, yeah?' said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried now. Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leant forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands and it shot towards Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about turn and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

'No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy,' Harry called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.

'Catch it if you can, then!' he shouted, and threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back towards the ground. He leant forward and pointed his broom handle down - next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball - wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching - he stretched out his hand - a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his groom straight, and he toppled gently on to the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

Malfoy was glaring at him, while all of the other students ran up at him, cheering.

'You were brilliant', Harry hear Ron say while Theodore said 'You could have been expelled for that' shaking his head and smiling brilliantly.

The rest of the day passed in a bliss. Madam Hooch came back down only a few minutes after his flight , struggling to control the students, and when Malfoy suggested that Harry had flown she'd taken off five points of Slytherin. They had herbology that day and faguely rememberd catching some mention of controlling devil's snare with fire. The only one who really paid attention today, as today the wind had turned to windstil and the sun shone radiantly above the clouds and would be the nicest day they would see until the spring arrived, was a fanatic gryffindor called Hermione Granger.

The bliss and glory lasted all through the potions class, wherein Neville managed to dissolve his cauldron and a sandy-haired boy made some noises that sounded a bit like explosions, till the very end when Snape told him to stay back.

'Good luck' Theodore muttered to Harry grimly seeing the face of Snape glaring at Harry.

'Harry Potter!' said Snape in his snakelike manner hissing through the silibels,'I should have you expelled for this serious lack of judgement, you are just like your _father_ ' adding some force and spit to his last word 'lazy, arrogant, always flying off and pretending to be better than you are, you-'

'Don't say another word against my father' interrupt Harry

'Two points from Slytherin,' said Snape looking somewhat conflicted by his lack of punishments ' Your father was-'

'That you can't leave the past for what it was, doesn't mean you should just go on and on about it, I don't know what you have with my father, it isn't my problem you couldn't stand him then when you were at school all those years ago, but he has been dead for ten years now! You are calling me up just to talk about your petty little fight! It is ridiculous!' Screamed Harry when he turned around to walk away.

What happened then he'd never expected to happen,

'Harry Potter' said someone who didn't sound a bit like Snape making Harry turn around.

'Just try to get on the Slytherin team, you'll do well, I'm sure you will.' Snape said, but when he saw Harry turning for the door he added 'You do know you have your mothers eyes.'

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Authors Note

I'll probably post/update chapters two or three times a week, so look out for that!

Review Answer Section - will contain spoilers

 _Sad that you are making Severus Snape hostile to Harry. Any chance the Professor will change his tune? Maybe a medical exam or leglimens by him of Harry's surface thoughts, something to quickly bring it home to Severus that Harry is not his father. Sad you are going to make Draco bad as well. Slytherin House is looked down on by other three houses and Dumbledore so the Head of House and fellow students should be united._

 _Don't care for Ron in Canon, he is the textbook definition of a fairweatherd friend so I doubt he would consider being a friend with any Slytherin_

Dear thephoenixandthedragon4ever,

Firstly, I want to thank you for sending me a review with constructive criticism. Your review brings up some good points worth looking at, before I answer your points though, I want to say that only a few weeks have passed what means that in the big lines very little changes.

1 Severus Snape,

You have to put into perspective that Severus Snape and Harry have only seen each other for something like one and a half weeks and one potions lesson; Every time Severus Snape sees Harry, he can't help noticing that Harry resembles his father, but also notices his mothers eyes, like (sort of) stated here:

'What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?'

And says that he's sorry for Lilly in his own Snape like way. Snape is still bitter and hasn't had the time to realise what Harry is like. Time will do the trick (or some veritaserum in Harry's morning pumpkin juice) for Snape to see how much Harry is like his mother.

2 Draco Malfoy,

Draco Malfoy and Harry had a pretty rocky start on the train to Hogwarts, Harry defied him there. As only two weeks have passed and they don't share dormitories (a major plot convenience), they haven't really had the chance to talk it out; And neither of them have forgotten the time in the train. They will probably keep resisting each other (This probably will lead to a love/hate relationship (and perhaps a Drarry (at the latest in book 6 (if I ever reach that point)))).

3 Slytherin House,

Yes, I definitely agree Slytherin house should be united, but as it adds tension I won't yet. In my believe Slytherin house would be unstable if Harry would enter and make friends. Snape and Malfoy aren't ready yet, so Crabbe and Goyle won't be friends either. And don't forget Harry entered Slytherin only one and a half week ago.

4 Ronald Weasley,

I now do care for Ronald Weasley (for a whole lot of plot convenience), and here ' s/11880754/1/It-s-a-Fine-Line' someone breaches the surface on Ronald Weasley. Later, when Ronald Weasley loses his use to me, I'll be the fair weathered friend and let him disappear.


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